


Cicatrize

by Arowen12



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, I just want them to be happy, Multi, OT4, Polyamory, Someone Help Will Graham, Trans Character, Will is a drama kid, except for you Hannibal, season 1 divergence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-15
Updated: 2020-11-15
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:53:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27561817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arowen12/pseuds/Arowen12
Summary: Beverly isn’t sure how it gets to this point.She thinks maybe it starts the moment Jack first introduces Will. He walks in his hair a dishevelled mess, those dorky glasses of his, and he looks like a puppy, or like the kind of guys on the cheap romance novels her sister likes; not the buff macho type of guys, but the ones with a soft spot.Beverly likes him almost instantly.
Relationships: Will Graham/Beverly Katz/Jimmy Price/Brian Zeller
Comments: 14
Kudos: 43





	Cicatrize

**Author's Note:**

  * For [binarystarkillers](https://archiveofourown.org/users/binarystarkillers/gifts).



> Cicatrize  
> (V.) To find healing by the process of forming scars
> 
> Hello everyone, welcome to my second Hannibal fic, I didn't think I was ever going to write another one, but  
> well here we are. Y'all can blame my friends for that. This probably took up too much of my time but I hope you all enjoy, read on!

Beverly isn’t sure how it gets to this point.

The point where Jimmy is already asleep on Brian’s shoulder, Will squished in between her and Brian. The tv is playing some old movie she remembers seeing in theatres years ago. The air still smells faintly of the casserole Jimmy baked, and Will’s got a beer in his hands and Winston at his feet, and it’s nice.

She thinks maybe it starts the moment Jack first introduces Will. He walks in his hair a dishevelled mess, those dorky glasses of his, and he looks like a puppy, or like the kind of guys on the cheap romance novels her sister likes; not the buff macho type of guys, but the ones with a soft spot.

Beverly likes him almost instantly, likes the quiet way he speaks, she was never a quiet kid, but she appreciated it all the same. And, what can she say? She understands why Jack’s brought him in, they’re getting nowhere and if he thinks Will’s ready for the field then she’ll trust Jack’s judgement on the matter.

She meets Hannibal at some point, the memory, upon later reflection, doesn’t stand out beyond noticing the accent, the general unsettling feeling, maybe just her old childhood fear of therapists coming into play, and the tailored suit that screams money.

In the aftermath of Garret Jacob Hobbs, they go out for drinks.

It’s a tradition, Brian started it after their first successful case together. There’s a bar not too far from headquarters, dim lighting, good beer, and French fries that Bev would probably die for.

She squishes in beside Jimmy who is humming under his breath and bopping his head. He grins at her, that grin of his that crinkles his eyes and he looks exhausted, they all do, but they’re all also giddy with a solved case.

Brian returns with drinks in his hand sliding them across the table before he slouches in his seat and says, “Food’ll be around in a bit.”

“Amen to that, I don’t want to cook for a week,” Jimmy groans reaching out and taking a long swallow of his beer. Bev watches the motion of his throat for a long moment, her thoughts hazy in the dim lighting.

Brian toasts in agreement and wags his finger as he says, “That’s why I invest in takeout, my friend.”

“And how has that investment been going?” Beverly asks with a smirk wrapping her fingers around the glass, condensation already beads along the sides; She takes a sip, bitter and burning on the way down.

“Right, you were talking about the lady at the uh what was it, Pita Supreme?” Jimmy picks up the thread bumping his shoulder against Beverly’s.

Brian rolls his eyes a pout settling on his lips for a moment before he slouches back in the chair with a little shake of his shoulders and replies casually, “Nah, I thought she was into it but uh she got a bit confused.”

Jimmy’s face scrunches up in sympathy and Beverly reaches out and places her hand on top of Brian’s as she says, “Swings for the other team?”

“Yeah and she thought I was the other team, come on my beard’s even coming in,” Brian whines but his eyes are crinkled at the corners again.

“It’s a very nice beard,” Jimmy adds smiling pleasantly as a server slides a few trays across the table.

Beverly snatches her tray, fries and chicken strips and tosses a fry into her mouth. She savours the taste for a moment before picking up another fry and pointing it at Brian, with a raised brow she says, “So, Will Graham.”

“Will Graham,” Brian agrees, setting his burger down and dragging a fry through the ketchup.

“He seems nice,” Jimmy says in a conversational manner around his salad.

Bev snorts, “Yeah like the smart kid who doesn’t know who to interact with the rest of the class nice.”

“Did you see him afterwards though?” Brian asks tilting his head as bites into a fry. The light above their table is golden and it dances off the tips of his eyelashes and his blue eyes suddenly seem translucent.

Jimmy nods his expression grim, “He looked rough.”

“Killing someone will do that,” Beverly says and it’s not judgement, she’s done it before, though she knows Jimmy hasn’t. Brian nods and she takes a sip of her beer before adding, “Besides that’s what Hannibal Lecter is there for.”

“He gives me the creeps,” Jimmy says shaking his shoulders for emphasis before shoving more salad into his mouth.

Brian shakes his head, “Come on he’s not that bad.”

“I mean they both like to make vaguely disturbing statements so there’s that I suppose,” Beverly adds with a grin, she pauses glancing down at her plate, the food looks oversaturated, suddenly turning her stomach as she murmurs, “I wonder what it’s like, placing yourself in the head of a killer like that?”

“That’s not really what he does though,” Jimmy lectures, tilting his head slightly, he’s in one of his stupid but comfy looking jumpers tonight and for a moment Beverly envies him.

Brian grimaces slightly picking at a piece of lettuce hanging out of his burger he says, “It kind of is, he does say you know his whole ‘this is my design’ thing. Note the use of the article there.”

“He was probably a drama kid in high school,” Beverly replies with a snort drawing blood splatter patterns with her ketchup.

“Hey as a drama kid I’m offended,” Jimmy says one hand clasped to his chest.

Brian shakes his head with a scoff his eyes teasing as he says, “Right yeah as Flounder, or uh what’s the character Bev, the one from Beauty and the Beast?”

“LeFou.”

“Right yeah him,” Brian finishes with a proud grin.

Jimmy rears back, hands planted on the edge of the table and Christ they’re going to start debating decay rates any minutes aren’t they (their method of flirting with each other). With a shake of his head, Jimmy responds, “I’ll have you know, I was in Greece, and our production of the Phantom of the Opera thank you very much.”

“You were one of the dudes weren’t you,” Brian says through his laughter before expanding, “The guys who like take over the opera with the weird moustaches.”

Jimmy doesn’t say anything which is answer enough and Brian’s laughter, hiccupy and reedy fills the air and Beverly joins in chuckling softly under her breath. Jimmy glances between the two of them his face squished up in offence before he rolls his eyes and takes a long sip of his beer.

After the laughter has died down Beverly glances at her coworkers, in the warm yellow light they look happy and she tucks it away for a moment holds onto the memory before with a snort she says, “So, who wants to place bets on how long it takes for our next American psycho?”

Brian snorts but pulls out a twenty and says, “Not even two weeks.”

“Oh, you’re on,” Jimmy retorts setting his glass down with a _clink_ , water gathering in a circle around the glass. Beverly grins leaning against Jimmy’s shoulder for a moment as she reaches to take the money, a half-familiar song playing in the background.

Beverly does the fingerprints for one of the corpses, resisting the urge to rub at her eyes, which are sore under the harsh fluorescent lighting of the lab. Jimmy is with the other body, a grimace on his face and hiding behind his glasses as he lifts up one of the ‘wings’.

Brian returns with a tray depositing it beside Jimmy with a grim smile. There’s something strained to the air and even, Will lingering in the corner seems to be feeling it, his hand pressed to his head, and his hair a ruffled mess.

He looks tired, worn. Bev doesn’t necessarily blame him, not after the fertilizer case, and now this, humans made angels through flesh. They all feel worn, it’s the sort of string of things that all come together quite suddenly. She can feel her own checklist of things to attend to like the pressure of a beginning migraine, a call to her father, she needs to sort out a statement with her bank, and on top of that the case.

“Will, you can go home if you need to,” Brian suggests his smile warm, friendly, as he continues, “I doubt we’ll be able to pull anything else today.”

The man takes a moment to respond, staring distantly at the shiny chrome of the opposite wall before he visibly shakes himself, “No, I uh, I’ll stay. It’s fine, I’m fine.”

He tries to sound sure but his voice wavers and he glances around the room lost. Beverly tilts her head glancing from Jimmy to Brian before she says, “Well, we’re probably going to turn in soon, get some dinner. There’s a bar down the street, the fries are good. You’re welcome to join us?”

Will looks up sharply staring at her with wide eyes for a moment. He blinks and shakes his head, the motion ruffling his curls as he says, “I – I uh can’t, I have a meeting with Dr. Lecter.”

“What time?” Jimmy questions leaning over the table to stare at Will, like a hound with a scent.

Will blinks back startled before glancing down at his watch, his brows furrow and he replies, “Around nine, not really a solid appointment.”

“Plenty of time,” Brian joins grinning at Beverly before nodding to Jimmy and proceeding to move one of the bodies towards the morgue.

Will frowns, maybe she would have let it go, would have let him linger alone, but she’s tired, she can see he’s tired and she wants to just forget about that for even a moment. She smiles gently at Will and says, “Come on it’s like ten minutes away.”

“I could use a bite,” Will concedes finally with a shrug as Jimmy and Brian return wheeling the other body into the morgue.

Beverly grins tidying up her area and Will appears beside her asking uncertainly, “Can I help?”

“Put those in the cabinet over there,” She tilts her head at the tray of wrapped tools, still in their packaging. He nods, his hand briefly brushing hers as he picks up the tray and carries it to said cabinet.

Beverly watches for a moment before she turns and cleans up the last of her station as Brian and Jimmy do the same.

Her gloves come off with a _snap_ that seems to echo in the cold and empty room, Will twitches his shoulders jumping with the motion as his gaze lands on the shiny chrome walls once more.

Jimmy and Brian finish up, Jimmy shrugging on a coat as Brian passes hers. She pulls it over her shoulders and ushers the three of them out of the lab, locking it behind her, eyes flickering over the lab, she attempts to banish the familiar feeling she’s forgotten something.

It’s already dark outside, night creeping along the snowbanks already a dull grey. Beverly shivers and tucks her jacket closer to her, grinning into her collar as Jimmy mumbles about the scarf he’s been knitting. Will walks almost behind them, his coat unzipped and his eyes swivelling around the streets, the shops with neon signs blurry in the cold, and other people passing late at night like ships on the sea.

Brian leads them not to their usual bar, but the one they go to less often. It’s smaller, usually less crowded, but of course, still has excellent fries. They step through the door and a wash of warm air settles over Beverly accompanied by the faint sound of chatter and the pub smell; beer, something frying, and usually meat of some kind.

Will looks around the bar tense for a moment before Jimmy leads them towards a booth in the back nodding to the waitress as they squish onto the seats cracked and worn in some places. On the wall, cartoons and prints of fishes stand and the table is old wood, scratched and pockmarked, the kind of surface someone could probably spend hours staring at.

The waitress passes by and they give their orders leaving with her departure a sort of heavy silence. Jimmy smiles, in the manner of a grimace, and says, “So, any theories as to who our uh zealot might be?”

Beverly shakes her head with a huff but it’s Brian who says, “Nu-uh, no discussions of cases tonight. Instead, we are going to share embarrassing stories I’ll go first,” Beverly groans having heard most of them before, Jimmy sighs, and Will shakes his head but he’s grinning, Brian continues, “So, when I was the tender age of twelve, I had my first crush, lovely girl, went to my school. Now I was perhaps not the best at flirting in my youth, and got rather confused at times. So of course, it came to the matter of the school dance and I asked her, ‘Can we go as friends?’ And she said no.”

Will snorts, tipping his head in thanks as the waitress slides a bottle of beer over to him. Beverly takes her own sprite, or ginger ale, or seven up, what have you, and sips at it with the corners of her lips quirking into a smile. Jimmy shakes his head, “You think that’s bad, one year at my school, they wanted to do a Jeopardy trivia sort of thing and students could submit questions and answers. They were vetted of course but mine just happened to slip through.”

“What was it?” Will asks, slouching back into the seat and glancing at his watch.

Jimmy smiles humbly and says, “It was my question whether Cilia Paulson from Mrs. Winter’s class would go out with me. She also said no, in a far more public manner. Through a trivia question.”

Brian pats Jimmy consolingly on the shoulder even as Beverly leans back and carefully changes the subject, “So, Will did you grow up in Detroit?”

He shakes his head, taking a sip of his beer before he wipes his mouth, “New Orleans.”

“Really? Do you speak any French?” Jimmy asks leaning across the table to stare at Will.

“A little, but we lived in a smaller area,” Will replies with a shrug.

Brian groans, “God I hate small towns. Everyone knows everyone and there are five stores to choose from for everything.”

“I don’t know they’re kind of quaint,” Beverly comments shifting her hair over her shoulder, she’s been meaning to get it cut, another thing on her list.

Will snorts and Brian grins at him, their eyes connecting. Jimmy shakes his head, “There’s something nice to everyone knowing everyone isn’t there? I mean here in this big city you’re lucky if you know twenty people.”

“These city slickers don’t know what it’s like do they Will?” Brian asks flicking a wink in Will’s direction.

He nods hand wrapped around the neck of the bottle he says, “I like the quiet, but yeah small towns are uh – a special kind of solitude.”

“Right you live up in Wolftrap right?” Beverly questions taking another sip from her pop.

Will nods and Jimmy twitches practically bouncing in the booth as he asks, “What’s this I hear about ten dogs?”

He grins, his eyes lighting up warm and fond as he says, “I take them in, strays, whenever I run across them. I try to rehome them if I can, if I can’t they stay with me.”

“That’s honestly kind of noble,” Brian says bumping his shoulder against Jimmy’s.

“I have a fish,” Jimmy says before adding proudly, “And, it’s still alive.”

“It’s a very pretty fish,” Brian adds with a wag of his finger.

“What about you Bev, any pets?” Will asks he looks better, under the golden light of the bar, his eyes warm, and his posture relaxed, two fingers dangling around the lip of the bottle.

“Not right now, I had a snake when I was younger,” Beverly says biting her lip.

Brian shakes his head with a roll of his eyes, “Of course _you_ had a snake.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Will demands leaning forward, his forearms on the table as he continues, “Can’t a woman own a snake?”

Brian squints like he knows he’s walking into a trap and Jimmy swoops in to save him saying, “Oh! I just remembered. You have to hear this. Okay so I come home, I’m tired, I had an incident at the grocery store that will not be discussed. So, I flip on the tv and it’s a crime show of some kind. At first, I think, it must be a parody because guess what they’re doing?”

“They’re touching the body without gloves?” Brian asks clearly already having heard this story.

“They’re touching the body without gloves! All the evidence, I think I’m going to cry just thinking about it,” Jimmy responds touching his chest and nodding sincerely.

Will glances at Beverly as she snorts, he shakes his head his eyes crinkled up in amusement. The waitress returns then, her arms laden with plates which she places carefully on the table.

Beverly picks at her nachos batting Brian’s hand away as she leans back against the booth and asks, “Alright, thoughts on Star Wars? They’re talking about making a new series and I need to know your opinions.”

“I uh actually haven’t watched them, the originals I mean,” Will confides setting his burger down and rubbing his hand over the back of his neck, he shrugs and adds, “I’ve seen bits of the uh newer ones?”

“Oh my god he doesn’t know,” Brian says his eyes are wide, his sclera almost glowing in the warm light as he glances from Jimmy to Beverly before announcing to Will, “We sir, are going to have a movie marathon.”

Will looks doubtful, and maybe it’s a bit beyond the bounds of coworkers, it’s not just getting a pint. But well, Brian is a force to be reckoned with on a regular day and Will looks so tired, he just nods, “Alright, alright.”

Brian crows and Jimmy shakes his head in that manner he does when he’s proud. Will snorts and shoves a fry into his mouth looking not quite sullen but certainly aware that he has lost a battle.

Beverly shakes her head shoving another chip into her mouth a comfortable silence settles between the four of them as they pick at their meals, not in a particular rush. It’s the kind of silence where Beverly can let her thoughts drift, while still aware of the company around her.

Will scrubs a hand over his forehead and glances at his watch before with a sigh he says, “I should get going Hannibal will be waiting to deliver yet more cryptic advice and or guidance.”

“He does do that, doesn’t he,” Brian says with a nod.

Will grins and rises, slipping out of the booth he pauses glancing over the three of them with his eyes crinkling at the corner before he says, “I’ll see you later. Goodnight.”

Then he’s gone. Beverly watches him for a long moment before she slumps back into the booth and reaches out for her can of pop. Jimmy grins at her, tilting his head so she can see his grin he says, “That was nice.”

“It was,” Brian says almost wonderingly, “Poor dude looked tired.”

“Don’t we all,” Beverly says forcing herself back up to pick at the rest of her nachos.

She catches Jimmy and Brian trading a series of looks, she can half interpret them these days, before Jimmy says, “Want to come back to mine?”

His place is closest, of the three of them.

Beverly glances at Brian before she nods with a quirk of a smile and asks, “You going to mix drinks for us again?”

“I might,” Jimmy replies glancing over at Brian. They’re close, have been for a while and sometimes she feels like the third wheel, or like a Guinevere getting in the way of Lancelot and Arthur. But she knows she’s welcome, they’ve made that clear often enough, and they’ve found a balance. She likes it and it’s as simple as that.

Beverly washes away the bitter taste in her mouth with the last of her pop and with a raised brow says, “About finished boys?”

Jimmy practically snaps to attention earning a huff of laughter, Brian shakes his head but shoves the last of his fries into his mouth with a nod. They wave the waitress down and split the bill, Will was nice enough to leave some cash to cover his meal, before making their way to Jimmy’s apartment.

Jimmy is in the kitchen, humming softly under his breath, the distant _pop, pop_ of popcorn in the microwave whirring along and the clink of glasses. Brian is huddled in front of the tv fiddling with the stations, the bottom of his shirt riding up slightly and Beverly grins where she lounges against the couch.

There’s a knock on the door, a pause fills the apartment suddenly and heavily before Bev announces, “I’ll get it.”

Beverly rises to her feet, toeing around the pile of blankets and on to the small hallway. She pushes the door open with a warm smile revealing Will. He looks uncertain, a bottle of wine clutched in one hand close to his chest and his curls a tousled mess as he smiles hesitantly at Beverly.

The door swings open wider and she beckons him inside with a tilt of her head, “Come on, popcorn’s almost done.”

He grins and asks, “Bagged popcorn?”

“’Course, nothing gourmet here but the drinks,” Beverly responds with a grin taking the bottle from his hands. He pauses for a moment just inside the hallway, his hands shoved into his pocket. Here in the warm light, he doesn’t look well, his skin almost sallow, his cheeks fevered, but it's his eyes most of all; haunted or perhaps rather hunted. She pauses asking softly, “You alright?”

It feels private there, closeted in the tiny hallway and Will shrugs glancing at his shoes before he says, “I’m fine. As much as can be.”

It’s not particularly reassuring. Beverly just nods though and wraps her fingers gently around his wrist and tugs him into the light of the apartment. Brian and Jimmy cheer as Beverly hefts up the bottle of wine and announces, “Will brought wine.”

“You shouldn’t have,” Brian says with a grin beckoning Will over with a wave of his hand. Will glances at Beverly for a moment before he picks his way over to the couch. Beverly watches him for a moment before she pads into the kitchen and passes the bottle to Jimmy.

He raises a brow and tilts his head in Will’s direction as he pulls the bag of popcorn out of the microwave, dumping it carefully into the bowl as he says, “He doesn’t look so good.”

“No, he doesn’t,” Beverly replies biting her lip and leaning against the counter for a moment before she reaches out and snatches a few glasses.

They don’t say anything else as they bring everything out into the living room. Will is curled up in one corner of the couch, his eyes sweeping casually over Jimmy’s apartment, the bookshelves crammed with an actually absurd amount of crime fiction, the weird art prints that Jimmy finds in second-hand stores, the absurd paperweights.

Beverly sets a glass in front of Will and settles beside him, tugging her hair out of a bun; she can feel Will’s eyes on her as she shakes out her hair. Brian leans back from the tv and says, “Are we ready children?”

“As a self-respecting adult aye aye captain,” Jimmy says, slipping a glass into Brian’s outstretched hand as he settles in the chair, one of those Ikea ones with the wooden legs and off-grey cushion.

Brian grins and presses play before settling on the couch beside Beverly reaching out for the bowl of popcorn. The music blares, and Beverly settles into the couch almost hyperaware of Will beside her, the soft rise and fall of his chest, the way his lips quirk into a soft smile at the sunset on Tatooine, the brief flash of grief. She probably spends more time watching Will’s face than the actual movie, but she’s seen this a hundred times with her dad.

They finish the first movie, the popcorn decimated and their glasses drained. Beverly glances around the room, dark with only the faint glow of the credits filling the room. Brian is curled into the couch one hand wrapped loosely around his glass; Jimmy is in the kitchen again.

“I’m going out for a smoke; anyone want to come?” Beverly questions rising to her feet and stretching her arms over her head before finding her jacket in the darkness. She checks the first pocket and finds the pack in her third pocket.

“I’ll come,” Will says following her out onto Jimmy’s small balcony, barely wide enough to hold both of them.

The air is chilly against their warm skin and their breath mists in front of them. Beverly glances down onto the darkened street, lit by the occasional street sign as she digs a cigarette out and offers one to Will.

He takes it with half a smile rolling it between his fingers as she flicks her lighter. In the brief flash of light, she can see sweat beading on his forehead, his curls are almost damp with it.

She inhales, the smoke bitter and filling her lungs as she passes Will the lighter. He snorts at the bright purple but flicks it lighting his own smoke as he says, “I didn’t know you smoked.”

Beverly pulls the cigarette away from her lips, exhaling as she shrugs, “I don’t. Leftover habit from high school. You?”

Will shrugs inhaling deeply for a moment before he exhales, “Needed some fresh air, my dad actually taught me how to smoke.”

“I started to piss off my dad,” Beverly snorts inhaling again and leaning forward, her arms resting on the metal bar of the railing, the chill seeping into her skin.

Will huffs a soft breath of laughter but doesn’t reply leaning against the wall and staring into the darkness. Silence sits between them for a long moment before Will asks, nearly a whisper, “Have you killed someone before?”

Beverly glances over her shoulder at Will, he’s half shadowed, half-lit by the light from the apartment and he’s staring at his own hands like he can still see the blood. She exhales smoke flitting from her lips as she replies, “Yeah, my second case. Guy had a penchant for dark-haired females, came at me and I shot him.”

“Did it uh – do you still see him?” Will questions, glancing down at the cigarette in his hands, the end glowing red.

Beverly inhales biting her lip for a moment before she nods and replies, “Yeah sometimes I do. I wake up and I think for just a moment that I can see his face, it’s there in my mind, these wide eyes, it was a normal face. And I’ll hear the gun going off, feel the recoil lingering in my arms. How am I supposed to get through my day after that?”

“How do you?” Will questions his face is almost blank, all of the emotion cooped up behind his eyes.

She shrugs, “At first I didn’t cope well. They teach you at the academy how to take the shot, how to rationalise but that doesn’t help when it’s done and over with. I struggled, and eventually, it came to taking it one day at a time,” she pauses for a moment staring out across the city before she adds, “Having people to talk to, to be rationale about it helped, my sister, my dad, Jimmy and Brian.”

“No therapy?” Will questions and then instantly looks like he’s overstepped a boundary as he adds, “Sorry, that’s probably personal.”

She nods and says, “It is, but that’s okay. I’m not comfortable with therapists, had to speak to one when my parents got a divorce and I hated it. Therapy is great for some people but I prefer other means.”

Will nods looking pensive and Beverly hastens to add, “We’re here if you need us, Will. You might not officially be part of the ‘team’ but we care about you.”

He smiles, “Thanks.”

Beverly shivers and stubs her cigarette on the railing tossing it in the can Jimmy keeps out here. Will mimics the motion taking one last inhale of the cool night air before he follows her back inside.

“There you two are. We were wondering if you got lost,” Jimmy says with a grin he’s brought out the second bottle of wine Beverly brought over and the table has another bowl of popcorn.

Brian grins bumping his shoulder against Jimmy’s and asks, “So, Will what do you think?”

Will considers the question for a long moment as he folds himself into the corner, reminding Beverly faintly of a dog turning in circles before settling. He shrugs and replies, “It was fun,” he rubs at his jaw, “For when it came out, creative.”

“The effects were crazy for when it came out,” Jimmy says passing Will another filled glass. He takes it with a nod of thanks and a tip of his head.

Brian grins and presses play for the second movie.

Beverly leans against Will’s side, he’s warm, like a heater, and she sips at her wine, one of her favourites though she’s always like vodka more. She feels Will jump and twist at the movie, muffling her grin into her wine.

It passes slow and fast, each moment trickling from her consciousness as Jimmy and Brian mumble comments at each other. She thinks of sitting on the couch with her sister, her father watching from his chair, his eyes crinkled at the corners as he talks about the first time he saw it in theatres.

The second movie draws to a close, the familiar credits crawling across the screen and Beverly muffles a yawn into her hand glancing at Will who is blinking slowly, his head tipping forward every so often before jerking back. The clock blinks a bleary red midnight at the other end of the room.

Jimmy is asleep, his head craned back over the top of the chair and Brian is rubbing at his eyes like a little kid. Beverly snorts, remembering being a teen and watching movies till three in the morning and then going to school, what happened to that? She shifts and says, “Time for bed, I think.”

“I should get going,” Will mumbles sleepily.

Brian raises a brow glancing at the drained glass on the table and shakes his head, “It’s too late to drive, and you’ve had two glasses. Just stay, Jimmy doesn’t mind, it’ll be like a sleepover.”

Will opens his mouth to protest before he catches sight of Beverly’s raised brow and changes tact, “I wouldn’t want to impose.”

Jimmy who woke up at one point blearily states, “You won’t be imposing, not if it’s keeping you all safe.”

Will frowns for a moment before he sighs and says, “I can take the floor.

“Nonsense,” Jimmy says rising to his feet and slowly picking up the glasses scattered on the table he says, “Bev can take the guest room, Brian can sleep with me, you take the couch.”

It’s a comfy couch, Beverly’s slept on it before. Will opens his mouth once more to protest and Beverly covers his mouth with her hand before he can say anything else and smiles at him as she says, “I’ll get the extra blankets.”

Jimmy winks at her as she rises, stretching and running one hand through her hair before she finds Jimmy’s linen closet. She pulls out a few blankets and tosses them at Will. They hit him squarely in the face, Will stares blankly at her before sighing and folding the blanket over his legs, staring at the now dark tv screen.

The light to the kitchen flicks off and Jimmy returns tugging Brian to his feet and pressing his face into his neck. Will watches from the couch, his eyes unreadable in the darkness. Beverly tangles her hand briefly with Brian’s and says, “Goodnight Will.”

“Night,” He murmurs tugging the blanket over his shoulder.

Beverly follows the boys into Jimmy’s room, taking the shirt tossed at her and curling up behind Brian who murmurs sleepily, “What were you talking about – out there?”

She digs her nose into Brian’s shoulder earning a soft puff of laughter as Jimmy flicks off the lights, “Talking about my second case.”

“Oh.”

“Mhmm,” Beverly mumbles tangling her fingers with Jimmy’s over Brian’s body.

“Go to sleep,” Jimmy complains fondly. Beverly snorts but closes her eyes breathing in the faint scent of Brian’s shampoo, some better version of Old Spice probably. She falls asleep with vague thoughts of Will on her mind, and the face she used to wake and sleep to.

Waking and sleeping aren’t so much two separate states as water and the shore, becoming each other, retreating, returning. Beverly blinks suddenly awake, her eyes flicker open to the half-shadows of Jimmy’s bedroom. She can see Jimmy, asleep, his mouth hanging open and soft snores trickling from his mouth.

Brian’s not there. She frowns and shifts listening for the distant sound of the bathroom door opening and closing. She pushes upwards, the blankets falling at her hips as she rolls begrudgingly out of bed.

She tucks one of Jimmy’s sweater’s around her shoulders, the faint scent of something like mint lingering, as she steps into the hallway. She can hear soft voices speaking, and always one to indulge curiosity takes a few steps further.

In the dim lighting, she can see Will on the couch, the top of his curly hair, the sides stuck to his head, and Brian sitting beside him, both of them staring out onto the city. She can just hear Will’s voice speaking barely above a whisper, “I just – just don’t know what’s real anymore. And if I don’t know what’s real – how can I… what can I trust?”

Brian sighs long and low wrapping one arm around Will’s shoulder and tucking him close to his side he says, “You trust what you know. You’re Will Graham, you just watched the original Star Wars for the first time in your life. And if you need a reality check, just ask okay? We won’t judge, Christ knows it must be hard doing what you do.”

Will is silent for a long moment, maybe it’s not the answer he wanted, but it’s an answer all the same, “Thanks.”

“You going to be able to sleep?” Brian questions rubbing one hand in slow circles over Will’s back.

Beverly smiles softly and turns, padding back to bed. She drops the sweater with a long sigh and curls up beside Jimmy, who snuffles but doesn’t wake. Brian joins them a few minutes later, she wraps an arm around his chest and listens to the faint sound of them breathing until she falls asleep again.

Her phone buzzes, rattling against the nightstand and she reaches over with a groan before snagging her phone. Beverly blinks and peers blearily at the screen before pushing the covers aside and shrugging on a sweater.

Beverly glances over her shoulder, Jimmy is curled up in Brian’s arms, snoring softly, and Brian has his face tucked into Jimmy’s neck. She crooks a smile and pads into the kitchen pulling out a glass she flicks open her phone once more, wincing at the bright light.

There’s a text message from Will which reads, “I keep hearing something in my house.”

Beverly frowns filling the glass with water from the tap she texts back, “Not one of your dogs?”

She watches the three dots for a long moment before Will replies, “No. I can’t find it. Think maybe I’m hearing things.”

Beverly frowns glancing at the clock, it’s late the numbers a blurry red and she squints trying to read them before she shakes her head and sends back, “I can come over?”

She sips at the water, though she isn’t thirsty and glances around the kitchen. In the darkness, everything seems suddenly strange, changed, illuminated by the faint red glow of one of the electronics. Beverly glances out the window, the city dark and composed of shapes which seem to rise and fall like the tides.

“I wouldn’t want to impose,” Will types back, her phone pinging out a warning.

She scowls digging her toe into her ankle in an attempt to gain some warmth as her thumb hovers over the call button. Sometimes she has to wonder if it’s just an act, a polite veneer to prevent people from getting too close, sometimes she wonders if Will’s just not used to it.

Beverly presses the call button and takes another sip of water before pressing the phone to her ear. It rings for a long moment, the sound filling the small kitchen beyond the humming sound of the electronics before finally it clicks, “Beverly?”

Will’s voice is groggy and so tired, he sounds like he’s been running a mile and she has a picture in her mind’s eye suddenly of his hair plastered to his head and his skin beaded with sweat. She shakes it aside and says, “Will, what’s going on?”

There’s the sound of a bed creaking and she hears the soft huff of his breathing through the phone before he says, “I – I don’t know. I keep seeing him, he was – was there in the auditorium. And I – Christ I feel like I’m melting? I’m, I’m not solid, I’m spilling over.”

“Will,” Beverly says because she doesn’t know what else to say, doesn’t know how to comfort him.

The sound of him inhaling roughly crosses the phone and he says, “Can you hear it?”

There’s the sound of footsteps, moving closer to something or away, and she listens, she does. But all she hears is silence.

“Nothing, Will I’m-,”

“It’s okay, it’s okay, I’ll be okay,” Will responds the words pouring from his lips and she can almost picture him, standing alone in his home, running a hand through his hair, and staring distantly, lost, into the distance.

“I can come over,” Beverly says her voice soft she grips onto the counter leaning back against it and inhaling, glancing briefly down the hallway.

Will makes a short sound, high and pained, before he says, “No, don’t… I – in the morning?”

“I’ll be there Will,” Beverly responds and she longs suddenly and fiercely to reach through the phone, to wrap her arms around him, breath in the faint scent of Will, dog and cheap aftershave, but still Will.

“Goodnight Beverly,” Will says and the line clicks dead.

She inhales and glances down at her phone for a long moment before she clicks it shut with a shake of her head. She feels sick, almost nauseous, a swelling in her chest and she’s tempted to leave, grab her keys and drive to Will’s place.

Beverly drinks the rest of her water in slow sips and only jumps a little when Jimmy wraps his arms her stomach, still warm from bed, he leans on her and mumbles, “Was that Will?”

She nods lacing her hand over Jimmy’s, he sleepily presses a kiss to her neck but doesn’t push. She exhales slowly, pushing out all the air in her lungs before she confides, “I’m worried, Jack shouldn’t have put him back in the field.”

“He has us,” Jimmy says, never particularly eloquent so early, but the words are comforting all the same.

Beverly shakes her head, squeezing his hand, “I’m seriously worried, this isn’t like an adjustment period, it’s not something you can put a band-aid on and hope it goes away if you don’t look at it. He could be seriously hurt he-,”

“Hey,” Jimmy says softly, running his thumb in circles over her hand, “It’ll be okay, we’ll talk to him, keep an eye on him.”

She frowns glancing out the window, “That’s what Hannibal and Jack are supposed to be doing.”

“Yeah and you know Jack, did you expect anything else,” Jimmy responds, not harsh an attempt at humour though it falls flat, he adds, “And Hannibal isn’t even officially his therapist.”

“I just wish I – we could do more,” Beverly admits turning to face Jimmy. His hair is a ruffled mess but his eyes are bright in the dimness of the kitchen and his lips quirk up slightly at the corners when she faces him.

She tucks her face to his neck as his hands rub soothing circles along her spine. His voice is hesitant when he continues, “Are we – is he?”

“I don’t know if he even goes for that,” Beverly responds turning her face slightly so she can stare down at the counter and her glass of water still resting there.

Jimmy hums tangling his fingers in her hair, “But if he did?”

She pulls back and raises a brow glancing into his eyes. Jimmy has one of his harmless smiles on but underneath she can see uncertainty, a bit of hope, and a bone-deep tiredness they all feel.

Beverly sighs tangling her fingers with his, “Let’s go back to bed. I’m going to see Will in the morning.”

Jimmy nods pressing a kiss to her cheek he follows her into the bedroom. She lets Jimmy push her into the centre, Brian sleepily slinging an arm around her waist as Jimmy curls on her other side. She closes her eyes and exhales till she’s in time with Jimmy and Brian.

Will looks shaky, like he’s collapsing in on himself, or that the wall is the only thing holding him up. Beverly leans back from the body, with the literal slasher smile carved into the man’s face, and glances at Jimmy and Brian.

They’re also sneaking glances at Will in between tissue samples and prints.

Beverly sighs, glancing down at the body and then back at Will, it’s almost late in the evening and they’re no closer to catching their killer than before. And Will looks like shit.

She sets down her tools with a _clink_ , both Jimmy and Brian glance up, catching her eye as she says, “I’m beat.”

Will glances up slowly from his shoes, his brow furrowing for a long moment before he nods once arching a brow as he says, “Yeah, I could – could use a break.”

“We could all use a kit-kat,” Brian jokes rolling his shoulders back before he continues, “Why not come back to my place? There’s a pizza place down the street that delivers and I have a nice vintage, nothing too fancy.”

“That sounds fantastic, why does that sound so fantastic,” Jimmy bemoans leaning forward on his arms for a moment with a shake of his head. And yeah, a night in used to be the worst thing imaginable.

Will opens his mouth and closes, he blinks once slowly and says, “I should – probably should talk to uh.”

“Come on you can talk to him tomorrow,” Brian says fluttering his eyes at Will and grinning softly.

Will’s shoulders slump and he nods running a hand through his hair, damp with sweat, “Yeah, okay.”

They pack up quickly, the room filled with the soft hum of chatter as Brian and Jimmy discuss the recent episodes of Special Victims Unit, they binged last night. Beverly opted out on the excuse she had to visit her nephew, which she did.

They cram into Brian’s car, a red something or other that looks like every car other car on the road and always reminds Beverly faintly of the car her grandmother drove, it even sort of smells the same. The radio is on, classic rock blaring from the speakers until Jimmy cranks it down.

Beverly leans her shoulder against Will, she can practically feel the heat radiating off of him. Up close he looks feverish, his hair plastered to his skull, his skin beaded with sweat, his cheeks flushed, and his eyes are dark drowning out the brown in the sea of his pupil.

“You okay?” Beverly asks gently, reaching and tangling her hand with his.

He grips back tightly, his hand warm in hers and shakes his head. Will looks close to crying his breath rushing harsh and heavy before he visibly inhales and forces himself to exhale slowly. He shakes his head once but doesn’t verbalise anything else, turning to stare out the window.

Brian’s place is one of those short brick apartments in a nice enough neighbourhood. They file out of the car and through the lobby into the elevator, Jimmy and Brian communicating in raised eyebrows and shoulder shrugs as the elevator rises.

The apartment itself is simple and yet cosy, furnished mostly with furniture from thrifting and the side of the road. It looks like a twenty-year old’s apartment but Beverly doesn’t mind as she sinks into the couch dragging Will down with her.

Will puffs out air as he lands beside her, his eyes surveying the apartment, Brian’s photos of his family, one of those huge families with five siblings, the abundance of movie posters, the trans flag in the window.

Beverly reaches up and pulls her hair out of its bun as Jimmy settles on the other side of Will and Brian appears phone tucked to his ear held there by his shoulder and a bottle of wine in one hand along with four glasses.

Jimmy takes the bottle along with the glasses popping the cork and pouring a healthy amount into each glass. Beverly passes Will his glass and watches him drink it as if he’s drowning, the movement of his throat catching her eye for a long moment.

Brian sets his phone down and settles in the armchair, slumping bonelessly with his head craning back to stare up at the ceiling. Jimmy snorts and shuffles to his feet reaching forward to flick the tv on he finds the remote and with a snort puts on one of the Star Wars prequels.

Will huffs the softest laughter she’s heard as they all take a moment to decompress, watching as Padme Amidala appears. Beverly remembers wanting to be her, the elaborate outfits, how smart she was, the third movie ruined that a little bit.

“So, what do you-,”

“We’re not talking about the case tonight,” Jimmy interrupts with a shake of his head, “I don’t even want to think about it.”

Will snorts pouring himself a little more he replies, “No that’s my job, thinking about it. Wish I could stop.”

They trade looks and Brian with a shaky smile says, “Kind of sounds like you need an off switch.”

“I’ll drink to that,” Will responds lifting his glass up.

Beverly clinks her glass gently against his, the liquid in each rising and falling like a wave before she takes a sip. The liquid burns all the way down, tangling with the emotions caught up in her chest as a knock on the door appears.

Brian rises to his feet waving them off as he goes to answer the door. Beverly listens to the sound of conversation distantly, half watching the movie and half trying not to think at all.

A moment later, Brian returns, pizza box in hand. It smells delicious and Beverly feels suddenly ravenous as he sets it on the table along with a stack of plates and napkins and says, “Now I know it’s no gourmet meal, but trust me, this pizza will change your life.”

Beverly laughs and even Will grins as she reaches out to take a slice.

It is good, she’ll admit that much, not too greasy, the crust is solid, and it’s good, just the right kind of pizza. Brian is practically bouncing in his chair as he asks, “Well? Come on, don’t keep a man waiting.”

“It’s good,” Will says with a smile taking another bite.

“It’s great,” Jimmy corrects sending Brian a sappy smile. Beverly rolls her eyes bumping her shoulder against Will, who catches the two of them and shares a commiserating look with her.

Brian catches the two of them and says, “Don’t tell me you’re one of those ‘Chicago deep dish’ snobs.”

“I haven’t even been to Chicago,” Will responds plaintively as he reaches out for another slice.

This appears to appease Brian somewhat as he nods and reaches out for his glass of wine. Beverly finishes off her own slice as the small living room is filled with the clink of glasses and shifting cutlery.

When they’re done, their plates sitting on the coffee table next to empty wine glasses Beverly leans back letting her eyes slide shut, beside her Will is warm and she can hear the sound of a lightsaber battle.

“Will, Jack mentioned you had an MRI is everything okay?” Jimmy asks piercing the warm silence. Beverly blinks, her eyes adjusting to the half-tones of the apartment as she glances to Will.

He’s frowning, his expression screwed up as he glances at his hands and nods, “I – yeah, suppose Hannibal told Jack. I – I told you I’m seeing things?” The atmosphere is suddenly heavy and tense like they’re all holding their breaths waiting to see what will happen, Will continues, “I thought it might be something wrong, you know medically. But they didn’t find anything.”

“I’m sorry Will,” Brian says reaching out to place his hand over Will’s, he smiles just the faintest quirk of his lips turning up at the corners.

He laughs and continues his tone frantic, “It’s kind of funny, I mean I’m not sure what I expected. Hannibal’s been having me draw clocks and reciting information. Maybe my mind has just finally given up on me.”

“Will,” Beverly says his name and she’s not sure what she wants to say, whether she wants to comfort him or help him. Her voice comes out soft and unsure, maybe as unsure as the rest of them feel.

Jimmy interjects, “Wait he’s having you draw clocks?”

Will nods with a shake of his head, “Yeah to uh centre me? I – I’m losing time. I one moment I’m in one place and the next another.”

“Like at the crime scene,” Brian says and his voice is understanding as he continues, “Or when we went fishing.”

She elected not to come on that trip.

Will nods his lips pinched into a frown and for a moment, Beverly is furious, at Jack, but especially at Hannibal, who Will must have talked to this about. Even if it isn’t official, he should be doing more.

Jimmy is frowning still and he digs through the mess on the table and pulls out a clean napkin along with a pen from his pocket, both of which he hands to Will as he asks, “Could you draw me a clock?”

Will stares at the napkin and pen in his hands for a long moment, there’s an expression that somehow conveys the absurdity of the situation on his face before he nods. A napkin isn’t the best to write on at any time, but Will manages with only a few mild curses before spinning the napkin around.

They all stare at the clock, though calling it a clock would perhaps be a very vague estimate. It almost looks like something by Dali, the numbers dripping from the bottom of the clock, all gathered together.

Brian is glancing from Will to the clock but it’s Jimmy who asks, “What did Hannibal say about the clock?”

Will glances between the three of them catching that something is amiss as he replies hesitantly, “Nothing? He just took it and looked at it.”

“Oh,” Jimmy says shortly glancing down at the clock and back at Will before he continues, “The neurologist you went to see, is he a co-worker of Hannibal’s?”

“A former one,” Will says pausing a frown creasing his face as he asks, “Is – is something wrong?”

Brian reaches forward and snatches another napkin along with the pen and recreates the clock before showing it to Will, he asks, “What do you see?”

Will’s eyes go wide, and all the air rushes out of him. A look of confusion covers his features like a mask, but underneath his mind, which makes connections none of them can follow at times, is stringing the pieces together.

“You’re not suggesting…” Will says and he sounds heartbroken at the mere possibility.

Brian jumps in, his tone understanding and in a manner comforting, “Perhaps this is a recent development.”

Will rises to his feet, swaying slightly, his face suddenly determined as he says, “I need to know.”

Beverly latches her hand around his wrist, “You’ll see him tomorrow, stay Will.”

He looks like he’s going to ignore her like he’s going to march over to Hannibal’s and what? Draw him a clock and hand it to Hannibal, ask him what he sees? Confront him and listen to the man’s honeyed words.

Will glances down at her and his shoulders slump, he nods and settles into the couch looking suddenly exhausted.

Jimmy is still frowning, a part of Beverly hates seeing him frown, as he says, “I have – would you be willing to do another MRI Will?” The man in question raises a brow and he adds, “My step-brother, he’s a neurologist.”

Will considers it for a long moment, his eyes glancing from the napkin, his own and Brian’s, and to the three of them before he nods, “Right now, I just want an answer.”

“We’re here for you, no matter what Will,” Brian says and it’s more than they’ve said before.

Will glances at each of them in turn, Beverly reaches out and takes his hand in hers, still feverishly hot. He nods once, squeezing her hand gently.

Jimmy yawns, the frown slipping off his face and Brian grins gently, “Come on time for bed,” He rises and tugs Jimmy to his feet with a kiss pressed to his cheek before he turns to Will and extends a hand, “Join us?”

There’s silence for a long moment, he glances at Beverly, at their entwined hands, the napkins with their clocks, and reaches out, taking Brian’s hand. Beverly wraps her arms around him and pulls Will into a hug, Jimmy wipes at the tears on his face, and they go to bed.

Jack’s office reminds Beverly of the inside of a modern decorating calendar, the whole building does. It’s all sleek chromium shine and dark leather chairs. Jack is hunched over his desk signing one form or another but he looks up when Beverly and Brian enter.

He raises a brow glancing between the two of them and asks, “New lead on the case?”

Beverly shakes her head with a frown, crossing her arms over her chest as Brian frowns hands shoved into his pockets as he says, “It’s about Will.”

Jack leans back setting down his pen and raising a brow, he looks confused and a touch expectant as he asks, “Did he contaminate the evidence again?”

Beverly shakes her head biting her lip as she shares a glance with Brian before stating, “He shouldn’t be in the field.”

If possible, Jack’s brow climbs higher on his forehead and he tilts his head slightly and responds, “Hannibal says he’s fine.”

“Bullshit,” Brian responds his spine straightening as he stares at Jack, “Will is not ‘fine’, he’s hallucinating, he’s disassociating, and he has a constant low-grade fever. I’m not quite sure how that constitutes fine in Hannibal’s books.”

Jack leans back further his face is almost blank but there’s a bit of shock mixed into the lines at the corners of his eyes as he responds, “Is that your scientific opinion?”

“He’s right,” Beverly responds shifting slightly as she continues, “Each case is just making it worse.”

“I didn’t know you knew Will so well,” Jack responds glancing between the two of them, his other brow is also climbing steadily up his forehead and the office, which is always on the chill side, feels a touch colder.

Beverly scowls, “He needs to be taken off the field.”

“Not according to Hannibal, he doesn’t,” Jack responds with a shake of his head, “Will had an MRI he was cleared, and besides we need him. I think the positives don’t outweigh the negatives in this case.”

“One, Will is having another MRI,” Brian says holding up a hand, “And two, you’re not giving Will a choice in the matter and at the moment he’s unable to make a logical decision. Do you want Will to end up dead or the killer on the five-o-clock news?”

“Are you questioning my authority?” Jack responds his hands landing on his desk with a thud as he leans forward rising to his feet.

“Yes,” Beverly responds rocking back on her feet, she hates that she feels intimidated by men, hates that Jack uses his stature like that to intimidate people. She grits her teeth and continues, “If you don’t take Will out of the field, we’re out.”

“What?” Jack demands and his voice has dropped low and threatening.

“If you don’t take Will out of the field we’re out. You don’t think another branch won’t hire us, that they haven’t heard rumours, that you’re already on thin ice Jack? I can’t stand here and watch this,” Beverly responds and takes a step forward until she’s staring into Jack’s eyes.

He frowns, the expression crumpling up his face before he turns slightly, one brow raised as he comments in a false calm, “Mutiny by my own team,” he rounds on them, “If you think you can just walk out of here without consequences-,”

“Oh, we know there will be consequences,” Brian interrupts and he looks a bit giddy, like a kid talking back to their teacher, “But it’s worth it.”

Beverly intercedes before tempers can rise, “Listen, Jack, we’re not asking for Will to stop completely, he can still look at cases, photos, evidence, but he shouldn’t be out there. Garret Jacob Hobbs should never have happened.”

Jack sighs scrubbing a hand over his face, he turns to glance out the window.

Beverly trades a glance with Brian, reaching out to tangle their fingers together when the jaunty tune of a pop song from the 2000s fills the room. Brian’s face sinks suddenly with trepidation as he digs out his phone and presses it to his ear.

She gets a flash of Jimmy’s name, as Jack turns around to face them.

Brian responds to the person at the other end of the line, “Hi, yeah, yeah we’re just at his office.”

He glances to Beverly and mouths Jimmy nodding as he continues, “Oh, it went okay?” his face falls and he shifts jamming one of his hands in his pocket as Jimmy continues to speak. He responds, “Alright, I’ll call you when we’re on our way.”

Jack is standing behind his desk his arms crossed over his chest and one brow raised in expectance. Brian swallows, moving his jaw before he slowly exhales and says, “That was Jimmy, he’s with Will who has had another MRI done,” he pauses glancing at Beverly, “He has encephalitis, they’ve hospitalised him.”

Beverly’s heart plummets from her chest and cracks right into the sleek floor of Jack’s office. A part of her is relieved, that there’s an answer, that it’s treatable, that it isn’t Will’s own mind turning against him. The rest of her is just worried.

Jack leans back against the desk a frown pulling slowly at his face as he nods once with a short exhale and says, “The doctor, the one in the morgue. He was a friend of Dr. Lecter’s.”

It’s both a question and a statement. Brian nods and pulls the napkin out of his pocket, he holds it out to Jack and explains quietly, “This was the clock Will drew the other night.”

Jack takes it staring at the napkin, the numbers collecting at the bottom, he says in a false calm, “Interesting, Dr. Lecter showed me a perfectly normal clock.”

Beverly inhales and forcefully exhales before saying, “This is serious if Hannibal knew…”

“But why would he do that?” Brian asks with a shake of his head glancing at his phone before he adds, “Some sick science project? Will said he was his friend, or at least he thought they were friends.”

“Maybe he missed it?” Jack questions and it sounds almost hopeful.

Beverly shakes her head, “It’s only a week or two apart, I doubt it.”

Jack turns away from the two of them pinching his brow as he says, “This is a serious accusation, one we don’t have much proof for at the moment,” he glances back at the two of them, “Will is out of the field, for now, keep an eye on him, don’t let him interact with Dr. Lecter alone,” they both nod and Jack studies them for a moment longer his gaze knowing before he states, “Go on, I need to think over some things.”

Beverly and Brian trade a glance before exiting Jack’s office. She glances over her shoulder, catching sight of Jack staring out the window, before she turns and links hands with Brian, who says, “I’m thinking balloons, you?”

“Flowers, Will probably needs some flowers in his life,” Beverly responds and her voice sounds even to her own ears but her chest feels tight and she can see concern pulling at Brian’s face. He’ll be okay, she just has to believe that.

The hospital room is small, overwhelmingly white, and smells like antiseptic. Beverly crinkles her nose as she walks into the room her eyes sweeping over the empty walls, on Brian sprawled in a chair and Will resting on the bed. His eyes are closed and he looks peaceful almost, like one of those renaissance angles with tousled curls. She sighs her chest heavy as she settles in the chair on the other side of the bed and she reaches, takes his hand in hers. It’s still warm, but it’s not burning anymore.

Brian groans his head lolling sharply before his eyes snap open. He inhales slowly reaching up to run one hand through his hair as he grimaces and inhales. He glances at Beverly, his expression soft and fond as he asks, “How was work?”

“Missed you there,” Beverly replies her hand twitching before she reaches across the bed offering her hand to Brian, he takes it with a soft smile as she adds, “Missed both of you.”

Brian nods clasping her hand in his before he leans back and asks, “How’s Jack functioning?”

Beverly exhales leaning back against the stiff hospital chair she shakes her head, “Not well, he was looking over Miriam Lass’ files again, he’s worried about something, though if it’s Will or his wife I don’t know,” she pauses, “How is Will?”

“Doctors say he’s improving,” Brian says glancing out the window onto the city below, “They’ve been giving him a saline drip plus some other medication. One of the nurses said they might start with some physiotherapy next week.”

“That’s good,” Beverly says glancing at Will in the silence that sits comfortably between the three of them.

The door opens admitting Jimmy who has two cups of coffee in his hands, he passes one to Beverly and one to Brian before settling on the arm of Brian’s chair, “So, I see our sleeping beauty is well still asleep.”

Brian snorts but he’s smiling again, “Sleep is the best medicine, that’s what my mom always said.”

“Funny mine said that vaccines were a plot by the government,” Jimmy replies with a teasing grin.

“They are,” A groggy voice states and they all jump glancing at the bed where Will is blinking bleary blue eyes at the three of them, he inhales heavily and continues, “Good afternoon I suppose.”

“Well it is now that you’re awake,” Brian replies reaching out to squeeze Will’s hand gently.

“How are you feeling?” Beverly asks catching Will’s eyes for a moment.

He shrugs glancing at his hands with a raised brow for a long moment before he says, “Better, centred, present, like I can finally goddamn think again.”

There’s something lurking under his voice, hurt, raw and open, or maybe just suspicion. Beverly squeezes his hand and Jimmy says, “Hey that’s what we’re happy to hear. I’m just glad you agreed to do another MRI.”

Will huffs, “Yeah me too. Any luck finding Gideon?”

Beverly shakes her head, “He’s going after his former therapists, psychiatrists, basically anyone who spoke to him for a paper since he was caught.”

“Including Alana Bloom,” Will says and his eyes are clear, already making connections and for a moment she is reminded of their first meeting, his puppyish nature, the slant of his smile.

“They all have a detail for now,” Brian adds crossing his arms over his chest.

“Has he gone after Chilton yet?” Will asks glancing out the window there’s a thoughtful expression on his face and Beverly is tempted to dig out the files, the pictures and present them to Will like a five-course meal. But they’ve agreed, while he’s in the hospital they’ll keep him away from the case.

“Not yet,” Jimmy says raising a brow.

Will nods biting his lip, “He will, and soon.”

“Do you think the Ripper will intercede like last time?” Beverly questions picking at her jeans.

“It’s a possibility, Gideon doesn’t think he’s the Ripper, he doesn’t know who he is,” Will trails off for a moment brow furrowing, “He may be looking for someone to tell him who he is.”

“Like the Ripper?” Brian asks.

Will nods but doesn’t say anything else and a part of Beverly relaxes. Jimmy shakes his head stealing Brian’s coffee and grimacing before he asks, “What about you Will anything exciting here?”

He blushes, glancing down at his hands for a long moment before he glances back up at the three of them, “I’ve been visiting Georgia?”

“Like slasher-grin Georgia?” Brian asks.

Will nods and he must catch sight of their expressions, he shakes his head, “She’s better, recovering. I – it’s nice talking to someone who understands what it’s like, not being able to trust your own mind.”

“She almost killed you,” Jimmy says tilting his head with a concerned expression.

Will shakes one of his hands, “She didn’t,” he pauses his voice lower, “Listen, she says she saw someone in the room killing the neurologist, she thought it was me, but she couldn’t see his face. They’re going to try electroshock therapy; she might remember that face.”

“Will,” Beverly says his name gently, his eyes are lit from behind, almost feverish, but no not a fever, something ice cold.

“Don’t you see? It’s all connected.”

“You’ve lost us there Will,” Brian says gently. Beverly feels riveted, on the edge of her uncomfortable seat.

Will shakes his head letting out a frustrated exhale, “Whoever killed the neurologist, he probably killed Nicholas Boyle and maybe even Cassie Boyle, it’s the copycat killer. And, he works for the FBI, or he’s involved somehow. He couldn’t have gotten the details about the neurologist from anywhere else, not even Freddie Lounds had the scoop. Someone called Garret Jacob Hobbes’ house that morning, whoever did that is the killer. It’s all connected.”

“Okay,” Brian says clapping his hands together, “I think it’s time to put the red string away for now.”

“You believe me though?” Will demands and he looks small, almost scared that they won’t believe him.

“I’ll look into it,” Beverly promises gently.

Jimmy reaches out to pat Will on the thigh, “Have you spoken to Hannibal about any of this?”

Will goes tense before he forces himself to relax as he shakes his head his face screwing up into a scowl, “No, I – I don’t feel like I can trust him anymore, I just… he knew, he had to have known,” Will scrubs a hand through his hair, “He said it was a ‘lapse on his part’ but how could he have missed this, I’ve been loosing time, seeing things,” Will slumps suddenly into the bed and it’s like all his energy fled him all at once, he shakes his head, one hand hovering over his mouth before he says, “I – I thought I could trust him, I thought he cared for me, he is – was my friend, so why? I suppose it doesn’t matter now, Alana’s offered me a referral to another therapist, one who has nothing to do with the FBI, a friend of hers.”

Beverly squeezes his hand gently, there are tears on Will’s face and she aches to reach out and hold him, she wants him home again, her apartment, Brian’s, Will’s, wherever they are together.

“That’s good Will, the new therapist,” Jimmy says softly before adding, “Don’t – don’t be too quick to convict Hannibal, you can still be wary but maybe it was just an honest mistake.”

Will shakes his head, “A man like him doesn’t make honest mistakes.”

The words sink silence down with them uncomfortable and heavy filling the small room.

Then, there’s a knock on the door.

It opens admitting Abigail Hobbes and Alana Bloom, she raises a brow at the three of them but doesn’t comment, locking eyes with Beverly for a moment as she announces, “Abigail wanted to visit when she heard what happened.”

It’s crowded in the room and Brian announces, “Here we’ll leave you to visit, come on Jimmy let’s get more food, yay hospital food, Bev you’re welcome to come?”

“I’ll take a walk I think, clear my head,” Beverly says watching Brian and Jimmy vacate the room, Abigail takes Brian’s seat and Beverly turns catching Will’s eyes as she steps out into the hallway.

She doesn’t go far before Alana Bloom joins her, she’s a beautiful woman, and intelligent, she also cares about Will which earns her a few points in Beverly’s book. They walk in silence to the end of the hallway where a window overlooks an alleyway, Alana says, “He looks better. I was really worried for him for a while there.”

Beverly nods hands shoved in her pocket, “I’m just glad he’s out of the field now.”

Alana is silent for a moment before hesitantly she asks, “Are the four of you uh…?”

Beverly nods glancing from the corner of her eye at Alana who looks crestfallen and regretful, the expression falls away, “I’m happy, honestly, he – Will, he needs a good support system, needs good people in his life.”

Bev’s never been one for comforting not really, but she says, “You’re one of his people too. He loves you; anyone can tell.”

She jumps a little as if startled and says, “You don’t mind?”

“If we were only supposed to love one person my life would be very boring,” Beverly says with a shrug, exhaling she says, “I think I’ll head back.”

Alana nods but doesn’t move to follow staring out the window, there’s something almost like the softest touch of hope to her face.

The hospital is quiet and as she draws near Will’s room, she can hear Abigail saying, “I – I don’t know what to do with this guilt. It won’t go away, and I feel as if I know what will make it better, but logically I know that’ll just make it so much worse. You – you said you see my dad, I see them, these girls that look like me and they blame me.”

Will’s voice is soft when he responds, “The guilt doesn’t really go away, sometimes I still feel guilty for things I did years ago. But I think I’ve gotten better, it’s about taking things one day at a time, focusing on the future, not even the distant stuff, just the next day, the people around you, and I know you don’t have a lot of people, Abigail, not right now, but that’ll change, not immediately, and you’re going to have to work for it, but your life isn’t over, you still have so much ahead of you, so many things to experience.”

Beverly keeps walking, she can come back later. She makes her way down to the cafeteria, though she’s not eating anything there. All the while her mind lingers on Abigail Hobbes’ voice, afraid, and Will’s reassuring, and Alana Bloom so hopeful.

Beverly is quiet as she steps into the room, muffling everything behind sealed teeth, Jimmy and Price are already around the body, hardly recognisable even as that, and the scent of antiseptic is overbearing, searing through her. Jack waves her over and she takes a few steps closer scanning over the corpse of Georgia Madchen.

It’s hardly even recognisable as a human body anymore, the skin shrivelled, blackened, red, like volcanic rock cooling down. There’s not going to be much evidence if any on the body.

“What do we think happened?” Jack asks crossing his arms over his chests, he doesn’t look sad about the loss, but then again, she was facing multiple murder charges.

Jimmy responds gesturing at the remnants of a modern-day iron lung, “These things, high concentration of air if static builds up well you get what you see here.”

“Could this have been an accident?” Jacks asks scrubbing a hand over his face.

Brian and Jimmy trade a look before Brian pipes up, “Sure wiring is faulty sometimes, could have happened, but looks like nothing acted up so far.”

“It wasn’t an accident,” Will says from the doorway, still attached to an iv and in a hospital outfit which seems to bleach him of colour, it’s still better.

Jack raises an eyebrow but something in his face softens however slightly at seeing Will as he replies, “And why do you think that?”

Will takes a few steps further into the room, he glances slowly at Georgia’s body and Beverly can see his mind putting the pieces together, fitting into whatever puzzle he’s making. Will walks slowly around her as he replies, “Because she saw his face.”

“Will,” Jimmy says and its half a warning but mostly pleading, for him to step back, to leave. But Will is like a dog with a bone.

“And who is this mysterious ‘he’?” Jack asks, Beverly takes what samples she can and glances across the corpse into Brian’s eyes. He’s worried; they all are. She’s done some digging, tried to follow Will’s red string.

Some of it makes sense, a lot of it does.

All these deaths connected, the copycat killer, Nicholas Boyle, the neurologist, and now this. She wants to believe and maybe that’s clouding her judgement, maybe she just wants to see a pattern and maybe she just wants to believe Will, trust that he’s right in this.

Will shakes himself obviously lost in thought and responds, “Whoever killed the neurologist, Georgia saw his face, she could have remembered. You don’t leave that kind of evidence lying around.”

An expression passes slowly across Will’s face, it’s realisation swift and sudden followed immediately by regret bitter and stinging. Will doesn’t say anything, just shoves his hands in his pockets and says, “Look for a murder weapon, you’ll find one, though it may not look like one.”

Jack turns to face Will concern masked behind disapproval as he says, “You talked to Georgia before she died.”

“Yeah I also talked to Hannibal,” Will says and its accusation before he continues with his lips pressed tight together, “She said she was going to start electroshock therapy, that she might be able to remember who killed the neurologist.”

“That was her.”

Will shakes his head, “It wasn’t her; it was the copycat, it was off just slightly, noticeably even. It’s all connected Jack don’t you see, he’s someone close to us.”

Jack exhales long and slow, debating whether to consider Will’s words and Beverly watches his face, the room is tense and she wants suddenly and desperately to be home, distracted from all of this. Instead, she’s thinking about Freddie Lounds pumping air for Dr. Chilton and Abel Gideon still on the run and now this.

“Will,” And that’s Jack’s concerned parent voice, “Focus on your recovery, we’ll investigate this as you’ve asked, we can speak about your theory at a later date.”

Beverly almost wants to applaud him for his restraint.

Will’s face falls into something resigned as he nods glancing at Georgia’s corpse for one more lingering moment before he turns and hobbles out of the room. Beverly trades a glance with Brian and Jimmy before stating, “I’ll follow, make sure everything’s okay.”

Jack nods which is permission enough.

She steps out of the room inhaling the stale air but at least it’s not burnt human. Will is walking slowly down the hallway his iv trailing along beside him and it’s easy enough to catch up to him.

His hands are shoved in his pockets again and he’s glaring at the floor as he says, “I told Hannibal about Georgia, that she might remember the killer’s face. I’ve told him so many things, about our cases, what we’re going to do. The copycat killer takes organs from his victims, it’s all connected somehow and it’s right in front of me, and I can see, but I can’t string all the pieces together just yet.”

“Will,” Beverly says his name gently, wraps her hand around his arm and pulls him to a stop in front of a window, the evening light darkens the planes of his face, highlights the shadows there.

He stares back at her, through her, his eyes big and desperate as he says, “You believe me, you – you don’t think I’m delusional right? I’m clearer than I have ever been since this whole thing started.”

Beverly exhales slowly and pulls Will into a hug, he goes stiff for a moment before folding in her arms. She says gently, “I believe you, Will, it does make sense, some of it, too much to ignore.”

Will exhales long and ragged, his shoulders shaking as he murmurs, “I just – I don’t want to believe it’s true.”

They stay like that for a long moment before Will pulls back scrubbing a hand over his face. Beverly studies him, he looks composed, better and Beverly hates herself but she says it anyway, “Will, we’ve uh found some stuff, about Abigail. She – she may have been involved, helped her father.”

Will looks struck but the expression is washed away before she can even really comprehend it. He turns away staring out the window with his face smoothed over like fresh concrete hiding the old cracks.

He exhales once, long and slow, “As much as I want to help her, it’s out of my hands now, she has to make her own choices, her own decisions,” he turns to Beverly, “If she asked for help… I would.”

“I know Will,” Beverly says and it's not a condemnation, the opposite really.

Will nods once, a little bob of his head before he turns to stare out the window his eyes closed as he breathes gently, “They’re saying I’ll be able to leave as early as next week, though they uh recommended I stay with someone.”

“You know our apartments are always open to you Will,” Beverly says bumping her shoulder gently against his.

He nods scrubbing a hand over his face, he turns to face her, “Let me know if you find anything?”

“I will, any leads for me?” Beverly says tangling his hand with hers, their hands are both calloused, hers from years of violin lessons, his she supposes from whatever he does out in the wilderness, maybe some habit as a youth in Louisiana.

Will glances out the window once more, the profile of his face is sharp, he’s a handsome man, they all are, her boys, in their own ways. Jimmy has a face that comforts her, it reminds her of the end of tv programs, old stories, the neighbour next door, it’s kind. Brian’s is full of humour, the crinkle of his eyes, the slant of his teeth, he can make her laugh just by waggling his brows. And Will, whose face is like an open book some days and others like stone, soft and untouchable.

“Miriam Lass found the Ripper, check what she was investigating last, see if anything overlaps with Hannibal,” he pauses and she imagines she can see the gears of his mind, turning and turning, “The Ripper kills in sounders of three or four; so the meat doesn’t go to waste.”

“He’s eating them.”

“See if you can find out when Hannibal has his dinner parties, he had one not long ago from what I recall, right about when a string of murders happened,” Will says and there’s something like fury to his eyes, he looks like an angel then, like Michael defeating Lucifer, he adds, “I told him so many things, I played right into his hands, let him wrap his strings around me and make me dance.”

Beverly squeezes his hands, “It may not be.”

“I hope it isn’t,” Will replies lips quirked into the faintest impression of a smile, “I really hope it isn’t him, then I can just be angry at him for screwing my head back on wrong.”

“But you don’t think that’s true,” Beverly says gently.

“I have no conclusive evidence, nothing solid, I haven’t seen him do it, haven’t heard him confess.”

“And yet all the pieces are there,” Beverly says with a nod of her head.

Will beside her nods, their shoulders pressed together as they stare out the window. He squeezes her hand lightly and Beverly squeezes back, the world outside, behind them, doesn’t matter just for now.

She’s curled up against Brian, her head resting against his shoulder, Jimmy on his other side, and Will’s head in her lap, there’s some show from the early 2000s on the screen and she’s been stroking her hand through Will’s hair for the past twenty minutes.

It’s nice, just really nice.

It’s so nice to have Will home again, stumbling into her kitchen early in the morning, Winston following behind him. He’ll stand there, like a zombie, burning up in the sunlight until Beverly presses a mug of coffee into his hands and a kiss to his cheek.

Dinner with the four of them, take out boxes of pizza, or Jimmy trying out a new recipe. Sitting in silence, Beverly finishing her book that she’s always been meaning to get to, Jimmy working on his latest knitting project, Brian typing away at one of his fics, and Will tying lures with ease. Sometimes they sit like that for hours in just the soft lull of conversation and other times they go someplace, do something.

It feels like this has been her life forever even though it’s barely been a week. But she wants forever, wants it so bad it’s burning a hole right through her, letting the memories pour out like rain.

And then her phone rings like a clap of thunder.

Jimmy groans and Brian squints at her as she digs out her phone frowning at the caller id as she answers, “Hello?”

“Beverly, do you know where Will Graham is?” Jack’s voice comes over the line short and hurried.

She glances down into Will’s blue eyes, staring up at her with his brow crinkled as she responds, “He’s on my couch, Jack. Why? What’s happened?”

Jack makes a noise over the phone, frustration or maybe annoyance, she can picture him, pinching the furrow between his brow as he responds, “Abigail Hobbes is missing. It appears Will checked her out yesterday evening.”

“That’s not possible,” Beverly says, the others are staring her, the once comfortable atmosphere suddenly dissipated, Will slowly sits up a frown settling on his face.

“And why not?”

“Because he was with us last night,” Beverly responds glancing at Will out of the corner of her eyes.

Jack exhales and responds, “All three of you?”

“Yes.”

“While the sign-out sheet disagrees, and someone says they saw Will Graham,” Jack’s voice lowers, barely a whisper crackling through the phone, “Is it possible he was sleepwalking again?”

“No, he was with us all night,” Beverly responds continuing, “When did he supposedly sign her out?”

“Six.”

Will sighs long and slow, “Tell Jack the last time I saw her was two days ago.”

She relays the information to Jack, there’s the sound of shifting fabric, maybe he’s glancing at the clock, maybe he’s sitting at his desk. His voice trickles over the line, “We’re putting an APB on her, she’s dangerous, she might have caught wind that we know. Does Will have anything to say?”

Beverly glances to Will who is sitting on the couch, his head in his hands, his voice comes muffled and sad, “Check her home, but I doubt you’ll find her. Whoever…. I, she didn’t do this all on her own.”

She repeats his words to Jack who nods and in a tired voice says, “I’ll see you in the office tomorrow morning, we’ll go from there.”

The line clicks and Beverly leaves her phone there against her ear for a long moment before she sighs and tucks it into her pocket glancing from Jimmy to Brian, and then to Will.

“What’s happened?” Jimmy asks gently, reaching out to tangle his hand with hers.

“Abigail Hobbes is missing, someone, apparently pretending to be Will, checked her out last night and now she’s gone,” Beverly responds the words are heavy on her lips and she has to force them out like she wants to still try and save this evening though it's already gone.

“Shit, you think she caught wind that we had evidence?” Brian says and he’s gripping his knee because even if Abigail was an accomplice, she’s still been dealt a shit hand and she’s still a kid.

Bev nods, “That’s what Jack thinks.”

Will jerks suddenly to his feet his eyes wide and wild as he breathes, “Hannibal,” they all pause uncertain where this is going to go, “Hannibal was there with me two days ago, he left, to uh check something at the front desk? Abigail, she said – she said she knew who had called that morning. I thought he had left but if he heard her.”

“You’re not saying Hannibal took her?” Jimmy questions raising a brow.

“That’s exactly what you’re saying,” Beverly interprets glancing at Will’s face.

He nods pacing slightly back and forth like a caged animal before he stops and says, “Abigail, she was the one who answered the call that morning, the killer, the copy cat killer, was the one who called the house.”

“She knows who it is,” Brian says.

Will nods, “We already know it’s someone close to us, close to me. Two days ago, she told me she knew who that voice was.”

“And Hannibal was nearby,” Jimmy says keeping up the thread, “You’re suggesting Hannibal is the copy cat killer.”

“Not just that,” Will said and his expression says he desperately doesn’t want it to be true, “Bev did you find any data corresponding to Hannibal’s dinner parties and the Ripper murders?”

Beverly nods and can’t believe she does. She runs a hand through her hair before she responds, “Around when Gideon escaped and we had the string of murders, I searched through social media profiles of wealthy or influential individuals in the area, I’m not a hacker, but more than a few were raving about Hannibal’s dinner party, before that, the Ripper’s last known appearance, another dinner party, and before that. It lines up all within a week of each other.”

“It makes sense,” Brian says and there’s something dull to the words, this isn’t the hype of solving a case, this is a man who has insinuated himself in to the FBI, Brian continues, “Pretty high up on the list is a surgeon, a therapist is on there too.”

Will laughs tonelessly, “He’s even said it, he said he ‘I transferred my passion for anatomy into the culinary arts’ he’s made countless puns about cannibalism if you know what you’re looking for.”

“But we don’t have any hard evidence,” Jimmy says and Brian would make a joke out of it if this wasn’t so serious.

Beverly nods and adds, “It’s all circumstantial and I doubt he’d confess to a direct killing, and if he knows we’re onto him he might dip.”

“We can get evidence,” Will says the words are sharp and cut through the air, settling heavily and still.

“What?” Jimmy asks and Beverly, who’s the best of the three of them at following in Will’s track wishes she didn’t know where this was going.

Will exhales once, sharp and short, like everything this night has been, “If he’s really the Ripper or even just the Copycat, he’ll have some ‘meat’ left over.”

“And if we can get some of that meat-,” Jimmy begins.

Brian finishes, “Then we have evidence.”

“The only problem is getting the evidence without him knowing,” Beverly says thinking of Jack letting things slide, is this one of those situations where they tell him about it and he pretends he never heard? Probably not, he’s too attached, they all are.

Will scrubs a hand over his face, he looks tired and his face is flushed. He’s still recovering she has to remind herself sometimes, when she sees him draw clocks, write things down, little physio stretches in the kitchen around a mug of coffee.

They notice and its Brian who says, “We can talk about it tomorrow, I’ll make pancakes and we can talk about it.”

Jimmy snorts but they’re still staring at Will who nods. Beverly exhales and rises to her feet, “I’m going out for a smoke.”

“I’ll come,” Will says, and when Jimmy raises a brow he adds, “Just some fresh air, that’s it.”

It’s cool out, but not the harsh bite of winter, spring seems to sweep about the air and melt the snow into shadows. Her balcony is small with two chairs, Beverly leans against the railing and flicks her lighter sticking her cigarette in her mouth.

Will leans beside her, staring out over the city he murmurs, “I can’t help thinking it's my fault, Abigail, he heard her and now she’s gone. She could be dead for all I know, and I felt a responsibility to her.”

Beverly reaches out her hand resting gently on top of his, when he reaches out, she passes him her cigarette. He takes a quick puff, glancing over his shoulder before passing it back to her. She inhales once and, on the exhales, responds, “Hannibal’s actions are his own, you can’t blame yourself for them.”

“Is it bad that even with all this evidence I want to be wrong?” Will questions, his voice a murmur she can barely hear over the traffic below.

Bev shakes her head, “No, I don’t want to be right either.”

Will exhales long and slow, “But we still need to be prepared.”

She nods stubbing out her cigarette and looping her arm through his, “Come on, back inside before you freeze. This is a tomorrow problem okay?”

He nods leaning his head against hers, she can see his blue eyes and feel his breath warm against her cheek. His lips quirk into a tiny smile, one of his real ones, not a practised one, “Thanks, I’m – I’m glad I have you three.”

She softens, “I’m glad you’re here Will.”

Beverly has only been to Hannibal’s place a few times, once maybe with Jack, and the other two when she dropped Will off, back when he still had appointments with Hannibal. Now he’s seeing a friend of Alana Bloom, an older lady, who actually seems to give good advice.

She parks down the block and watches Will walk towards Hannibal’s place, his hands shoved into his pockets, he’s walking as if it’s just a pleasant spring day, nothing to be nervous about. Beverly can still see him sitting stiffly next to her in the passenger seat, scribbling in one of his notebooks, one of his grounding mantras or whatever he calls them, and his eyes sort of wide and terrified.

Bev told him he didn’t have to do this she remembers the way his face changed, all stoic and determined as he got out of the car pressing a kiss to her cheek. And now she waits. Christ this is the part Beverly hates the most, just waiting.

She watches as he steps inside the building, Beverly wonders what it’s like going back into the den of the man who screwed your head on wrong, having to be civil, more than that even. Her phone dings once, just one word but it’s all she needs.

Her car locks with a click and she wonders if she mimes the same casualness as Will as she walks down the street. Instead of going through the front entrance, she darts around to the side, there’s a door there that opens onto the dining room, and near enough the kitchen.

Beverly has a moment to wonder what her life is, she’s breaking and entering on a suspicion. But they still haven’t found Abigail Hobbes, and Will is in there right now and she needs to do this.

For a wealthy man, Hannibal’s security system is painfully average, she learned how to pick locks like these in fourth grade. It clicks and she pushes open the door, it creaks and she holds her breath listening.

Faintly, so faintly as to be mistaken for the hum of the building itself, she can hear the sound of conversation. Exhaling slowly, Beverly’s eyes scan over the dining room. It’s ornate, almost opulent and nothing less than she would expect from a man like Hannibal with his tailored suits.

She can’t let herself get distracted.

Beverly closes the door with a click and steps into the kitchen, it’s modern all chrome and shining steel. For a moment, she stares lost, would he really keep it in plain sight? He’s smarter than that.

There’s a door to the basement at one wall, Beverly inhales slowly and walks across the tile. She no longer can hear the sound of conversation above her and prays that it’s simply inaudible, not that it’s stopped.

The door to the basement is also locked and that sets the first real bells ringing in her head. The lock is a bit more complicated than the one on the outer door and costs her a few precious minutes before the door finally swings open.

She steps into the basement, the door clicking shut behind her, and immediately a chill sweeps down her spine. Beverly pulls on a pair of gloves and exhales slowly as she walks forward. The basement isn’t expansive, but it is large, mostly empty space, pantry supplies. She can see an upright freezer up ahead. Bingo.

The door sweeps open with a groan and gust of cool air. Beverly stares at the packaged meat with a frown, a lot of it. Not that she didn’t already know Hannibal delighted in his meat. She reaches out and takes the first package she sees; it’s marked with the name of a recipe of some kind and it just looks like meat.

Beverly places the package back where it was and searches towards the back of the freezer. She finds one package, almost buried under two others and carefully shimmies it out; it’ll pass under first glance. She tucks the package into her bag and finds two other packages, each labelled with a recipe.

Bev takes a moment, stepping away from the freezer and clicking the door shut, just to hear herself breathe. She glances around the basement one last time before shaking her head and turning towards the stairs.

She’s on the first step when she hears Hannibal’s voice, “I have always found a warm drink to provide a measure of comfort when I am distressed. It is nothing so great, no remedy, but sometimes we must take what we can for maladies of the soul.”

Beverly’s heart heaves in her chest as she pauses on the step before the door, which she at least closed behind her. She can hear Hannibal moving about the kitchen, the sound of boiling water.

Will’s voice filters muffled through the door, “I don’t think a hot drink will alleviate my worries for Abigail.”

“I did not expect it to,” Hannibal responds in that voice of his, all drawn out vowels, cultured. Beverly bites her lip and shakes her head, breathing slowly in and out. She just has to wait. Hannibal continues, “I am curious as to why you chose to come and speak to me. Alana mentioned you are seeing another therapist.”

“I am, she’s – she’s good, been helping me get my thoughts in order again. But she doesn’t understand,” Will’s voice through the door is strange, the cadence just slightly off from how he normally sounds with them. She wonders what his face looks like, what games he’s playing.

“About Abigail?” Hannibal responds, the sound of a spoon clinking against a mug.

“Yeah – it’s she doesn’t understand what I do, what it’s like, she wasn’t there,” Will responds and she almost wants to laugh because that’s the whole point of a therapist and they all know it.

“It is good to seek out one’s friends for comfort,” Hannibal responds and his voice dips slightly, “If I am indeed still your friend?”

There’s the sound of a mug being set on the table and Will clearing his throat, “I – I was angry for so long, I think some of it was the fever you know? I just the heat it was like the anger, and I couldn’t tell the two apart, and I – I just needed someone to blame, for everything. I’m sorry I – I shouldn’t have made those accusations; you’ve been nothing but a good friend to me Hannibal.”

He sounds completely sincere, if they hadn’t discussed it in the car, she would believe him. Beverly finds she’s still surprised even now, not just by Will, but Brian, Jimmy, she even finds she surprises herself some time.

There’s a beat of silence, then Hannibal responds, “I understand Will. Come let’s return to my office, I have something I’d like to show you.”

“I’d like that,” Will responds, his voice is soft, fond almost.

For a moment she wonders. Then she brushes it aside, she knows Will Graham, she trusts him.

The sound of their footsteps and conversation trails away, leaving Beverly alone at the top of the stairs, her ear pressed to the door. She waits five more minutes, counting each breath until the time has slipped away.

The knob turns without a creak and she locks it behind her. The kitchen looks the same as before but for a kettle resting on the counter. Beverly stares at it for a long moment before she turns and exits the kitchen.

In the dining room, she can hear the faint sound of the conversation above her once more as the door clicks open. She turns the lock and shuts it behind her.

The cool spring air is like a balm on her skin, her heart is thudding in her chest, her knees feel weak, but it’s done. It’s done. Beverly straightens and ducks out of the side of the house, out of view of the camera and onto the street as casually as she began.

She’s tempted to glance over her shoulder as she walks down the street but doesn’t until she slips into her car and can see the street all the way up to Hannibal’s place, empty but for a few strangers passing by.

Beverly digs out her phone and sends one word to Will, followed by a text to Jimmy. Then she waits. Has she mentioned how much she hates waiting?

The radio isn’t playing anything good, Beverly flicks through the stations her eyes on the street, searching for Will’s tousled curls, for any sign that this hasn’t gone suddenly and horribly wrong.

Twenty minutes later she spots Will. The same casual walk down the street, his eyes connecting with hers through the windshield, his face smoothed into impassiveness as he slips into the passenger seat. For a moment, there’s silence as the engine turns over, the radio stopping and starting some bouncy pop song which, she quickly changes.

Will’s shoulders begin to shake. He starts to sob, low and muffled like kids who can’t be too loud. Beverly reaches over the stick and tucks him into her side; it’s uncomfortable, the stick digging into her sides and the angle all wrong as she runs a hand through his hair.

He sobs into her shoulder, his hands lacing over top of hers, warm, grounding her, grounding him in the moment. Will pulls back a moment later as another obnoxious song blares into the car, his eyes are watery and his breath shaky as he says, “Come on, don’t want our evidence to expire.”

Beverly nods patting his hand once as she glances over her shoulder. They’ll be okay, eventually.

It feels weird, seeing Will under the lights of the lab again, it’s been what two weeks? Three? They wash him out, she’s never really noticed how much they wash him out, drain him. Beverly decides she prefers him at home, in the light of the kitchen or the light reflecting off the tv.

The air is tense, a drawn-out sort of tenseness as they wait for the results which are supposed to arrive this evening, along with Jack. They should be at home, making dinner with Brian singing off-key in the kitchens but instead they’re here.

She wishes they had something to do at least, prints, or it sounds horrible, but another case to distract her mind from the waiting. Will is pacing back and forth, hands twitching in his pockets, Brian is playing hangman with Jimmy and a part of her hates this.

The results come in, a little beep on the computer Jimmy’s at. He sets down his pen, a little _clink_ but the sounds seems to echo and echo as he turns to his computer and pulls up the results.

Jimmy’s face falls and that’s all the answer she needs as he says, “It is – it is human.”

Will exhales slowly leaning against one of the desks, his hands planted on the shiny steel. Brian reaches over and says gently, “Will.”

He shakes his head, “Just – just give me a moment.”

They give him his space.

Beverly isn’t sure what to do with her hands, she tries tapping them against her thigh as Jimmy looks over the screen and announces, “It looks like two of the samples you brought are human, we’re going to look into uh sample matching with previous victims. The other was just beef.”

“While I suppose that’s a relief,” Brian says.

“What’s a relief?” Jack asks from the doorway, he glances at the four of them and must catch something in their expressions because one of his brows starts to climb his forehead, “What is it?”

“Your day just got a whole lot worse is what it is,” Brian responds, his eyes flickering to Will, who is staring at the wall.

Jack’s other brow starts to climb his face and Beverly interjects, “We have samples, from Hannibal’s freezer, two of which are human.”

There’s a moment where confusion wipes Jack’s face before he pauses his jaw working and asks, “And how did you get this evidence as I don’t remember giving any of you a warrant?”

“Hannibal is the Chesapeake Ripper,” Will turns, ever the dramatic, the worlds falling heavy like a stone, like a meteor with their impact. Saying it out loud makes it suddenly and truly real. Will continues, “And the Copycat Killer. He called Garret Jacob Hobbes’ house that morning, he killed Nicholas Boyle, the neurologist, Georgia Madchen, and all of the Ripper’s previous victims,” quieter he adds with a huff of desperate laughter, “I bet some of the meat inside his freezer belongs to one of his previous victims, it’s the only trophies he keeps.”

“Unfortunately, it does make sense Jack, he was a surgeon, now a therapist? He’s insinuated himself in to the FBI, knows our moves, and there’s the evidence,” Brian adds in that tone he uses when he’s trying to calm the situation down.

Jack glances around the room, “You’re serious?”

“He has Abigail Hobbes,” Will adds biting his lip before he adds, “I warned you, Jack, I told you.”

Jack sighs, long and slow, one hand rubbing at his forehead, “You’re sure of this, that the meat was Hannibal Lecter’s?”

Beverly nods, “Yes, I took it myself.”

Jack glances at her for a long moment, before he turns one hand covering his mouth. His eyes close for a moment, one of vulnerability, she can see the hurt on his face. Hannibal was a friend to him, he trusted him, talked to him.

“Okay, right, Will you can wait here or return to your current residence,” he glances at the three of them, “The rest of you come with me.”

“One moment please Jack,” Will pleads glancing at the three of them, he looks like he’s shaking apart at the seams again.

Jack’s face softens, something almost paternal as he glances at the four of them. He nods and as he turns says, “Meet me in my office in five minutes.”

Then he’s gone and it’s the four of them in that washed out lab.

Will’s hands are clenched into fists at his side, he’s shaking and she’s not sure for a moment if he’s angry that he won’t get to come or just scared. When she glances at his face she knows.

“Will,” Beverly says his name gently taking the few steps forward until she can fold him into her arms, still shaking.

Brian and Jimmy join the hug, a weird sensory mix of the four of them, Jimmy’s toothpaste, Brian’s cologne, Will’s shampoo, her calloused fingers, the soft knit of Jimmy’s jumper, Brian’s stubble, Will’s breath fanning out as he says, “Come back, please.”

“We will,” Brian promises, and it’s not one they can keep, not really, but right now it’s all they have.

Will nods and pulls back, studying the three of them for a long moment, his nose scrunched up and his lips wobbling before he nods, “Be careful.”

“Always,” Jimmy says cupping Will’s jaw for a moment.

Will leans into the contact reaching out to tangle his hand with Beverly’s as Brian presses a kiss to his cheek. He inhales roughly before saying, “Go on, don’t keep Jack waiting.”

And so, they go. Beverly glances over her shoulder at Will standing in the washed-out light of the lab watching the three of them leave.

In the low light of the evening, Hannibal’s kitchen seems to loom from the outside, lit only by the man himself, sitting at the breakfast bar with what is probably a mug of tea. He stands and moves out of sight.

Jack gives the signal, and Beverly exhales drowns all her nerves, her worries, the sight of Will watching them go, under a wave of calm as she follows the first agent into the kitchen.

“Hannibal Lecter you’re under arrest for the murder of multiple people, come out with your arms above your head now!” Jack’s voice booms through the kitchen, seeming to cut through the air itself.

The command receives only silence.

Jack signals for them to move forward with his hand, Beverly hangs back her hands tight around her gun as her eyes flicker across the walls. The other agents move through the building clearing each room, she can hear the sound of doors kicked in, but the four of them hang back.

The door to the basement opens silently and Hannibal Lecter steps out, in his arms with a knife pressed to her throat is Abigail Hobbes. Her blue eyes are wide and terrified, her breath shaky as she sobs with tears running down her cheeks.

Beverly levels her gun on Hannibal, whose face is impassive staring at Jack who commands, “Drop the weapon Dr. Lecter.”

She can see the moment Hannibal decides what he’s going to do next and before she’s really thinking she pulls the trigger. The bullet grazes his hand, hours at the range enough for this, enough that he drops the knife.

Abigail drops to the ground, smart girl as Jack levels his gun at Hannibal’s chest another stalemate. It doesn’t last.

Hannibal does something, she’s not sure what because one second the light is on and then it’s flickering madly on and off. Beverly curses under her breath one hand on her gun as she drops into a crouch peering through the darkness until she collides with another body on the ground.

“Abigail?” She whispers.

“Yes,” a whimper, barely even a word.

“Come on this way,” Beverly says, her eyes barely adjusting to the flashes of light, enough to know that the dining room is to their left.

She and Abigail crawl there, in the flashes of light, she catches a glimpse of Jimmy and Brian at the exits, their guns levelled at Hannibal and Jack, who are grappling with each other. In a flash of light, she catches sight of Hannibal wrapping something around Jack’s neck, strangling him. Another flash, Hannibal colliding with the wall with a sharp crack.

She rises to her feet, her gun held in front of her and in the next flash of light, she sees the shard of glass in Hannibal’s hand and fires. The bullet hits him in the chest and he stumbles back, eyes flickering past Jack to Beverly, her gun still levelled on him.

He drops the glass and slides to the floor one hand pressed to the wound there.

She keeps her gun levelled on him, the sound of her breathing loud in her ears. Jack speaks into the comms calling for backup and an ambulance. Beverly reaches over and flicks on the lights.

Abigail is crouched on the floor beside her feet, knees tucked to her head with her hands clasped over her ears. Jack’s bleeding from a cut on his shoulder and Brian has a scrape on his neck, maybe from a flying shard of glass. Hannibal has his hands expertly pressed to his chest and for a moment the tableau holds.

Then the other agents filter into the room, the ambulance has arrived, she can see it’s flashing lights through the window, casting everything in shades of red, blue, red. They’re alive, they’re all alive.

Beverly exhales, if she were in the mood for it, she would push up her sleeves. Instead, she crouches in front of Abigail, “Hey, it’s over now okay.”

It takes a few seconds but slowly Abigail moves her head from where its tucked up against her chest. In the periphery, she can see the paramedics loading Hannibal onto a gurney, Jack watching him go.

“What’s going to happen to me now? Abigail asks, and Beverly’s heart aches for a moment, remembering a similar question from when she was younger.

Beverly offers a hand to Abigail, she takes it and Bev pulls her up and says, kindly, “Whatever you want to happen.”

Abigail nods and it's maybe not the answer she wants to hear but it’s at least an answer. One of the paramedics comes over with a shock blanket and Beverly releases her into the woman’s care.

She watches for a moment before making her way over to Jack, Brian, and Jimmy.

Jack’s expression, hidden beneath something gruff, is hurt, and maybe just sad; it’s not easy losing a wife and then also losing a friend. Jack exhales long and slow, “I suppose we should see the basement then.”

Beverly pulls on her gloves as Jack turns and opens the door to the basement, those steps greet her and for a moment she wants to run, turn back. Jimmy rubs his shoulder against hers and she follows him into the basement.

It’s as she remembers, then again it wasn’t that long ago. It’s funny how a few things change and then events that only happened a month before feel ancient.

They spread out searching through the basement, Beverly wonders if Abigail was here somewhere the last time she was down here; alone in the cold. There’s nothing suspicious other than the contents of the freezer and Brian comments, “Probably does most of his work off-site.”

Jack nods, other agents are filing into the room, loading the evidence onto carts and into portable freezers. He scrubs a hand over his face studying the three of them, “Go home I’ll see you early tomorrow.”

Brian smiles and pats Jack on the shoulder, “Don’t be too hard on yourself. We all missed this.”

“Not Will Graham,” Jack responds with a shake of his head. He turns away from the three of them staring at the basement as agents move in and out.

Jimmy links hands with Brian and bumps his shoulder gently against Beverly’s, “Come on, let’s not keep Will waiting.”

It’s a bit of a blur, getting into the back seat, Jimmy in the driver’s seat, some jazz song on the radio, probably the adrenaline rush fading. They crowd into the elevator, pressed into each other until Bev can feel the fan of Jimmy’s breath on her shoulder, and Brian’s pulse beneath her fingers.

Will opens the door after the first knock, he stares at the three of them, his eyes swallowing them whole. Then, he pulls them into a hug, his shoulders are shaking, and Beverly thinks she might be laughing but it doesn’t matter anymore, she’s home.

Beverly still isn’t sure how it gets to this point.

The point where Jimmy is already asleep on Brian’s shoulder, Will squished in between her and Brian. The tv is playing some old movie she remembers seeing in theatres years ago. The air still smells faintly of the casserole Jimmy baked, and Will’s got a beer in his hands and Winston at his feet, and it’s nice, and it's home.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you all for reading! I hope you all enjoyed this fic, it was fun to explore the canon divergence and a healthy-ish relationship. Comments are always super appreciated, thank you!


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